Zeo Goes Cyrus

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Here Comes Mama June

We have a T.V. like most people. We have a dvd player. We have an areal as well. We even have a T.V. License, which is more than what I can say for most of ya’ll. However, and here it gets tricky, the areal is not connected. As a matter of fact it is standing in the kitchen. We don’t watch T.V. at all. We watch Movies and Series, but normal T.V. just doesn’t happen in our house.

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo

The Cookie Monsters (Mel and Mirelle) have DSTV. They have now realized that I live myself into what ever I am watching. This means that the faces that I pull while watching something, is apparently extremely funny. And the more fucqed up the show is, the better are my reactions to it.

For a while now we watch all kinds of stuff. I love ‘Come Dine With Me’ and ‘Hells Kitchen’, well anything with Ramsey in it.  We watched Geordie Shore for a while, but damn those people are fucked up. And then they started talking about 'Banging Birds'. Bwhahahahahaha well Mel said that, that is when you have a pigeon in each hand and you hit them against each other. Bwhahahahahaha.

‘Long Island Medium’ we also watch and the Gypsy shows. But the one show that I really detest ‘Toddlers and Tiaras’, or something like that. I cannot stand how people can subject their small children to the bitchy world of modelling at age 2 or some shit. And these girls become Divas, with their make-up and curling irons and Goddess knows what else.

But branching off from this show is the series called ‘Here Comes Honey Boo Boo’. Now I have to admit that I love watching this show. It is an entirely new level of fucqed up. I watch this show and I cannot stop laughing. Let me just clarify, I don’t visit there too watch the show. But if it is on when we visit there, then we watch it. Before I go further, I realize that these are people with feelings. And it is honestly not that I am trying to insult them but I simply have to explain how I feel about the show.

Mama June, my new Hero

The thing that I laugh about the most is the fact that these people are famous. Clearly, in today’s world you can become famous for any old shit. These people are famous and for what? For being rednecks. Bwhahahahahahahaha. That to me is the funniest. That they can go on international television, talk about the weirdest shit, and people like me cannot stop watching it. The question that begs to be asked is “Who is more fucqed up? The redneck on T.V. or the idiot who loves to watch the show?”

With this particular show, I really don’t like the main character. Honey Boo Boo annoys the shit out of me. A spoilt little brat that gets away with it. She needs a fucqing hiding.

I love Mamma June and Sugar Bear (Mama June I love the most). I only realized yesterday that they are not married. He is her boo. So when I heard she has a boyfriend, I thought she left him and has a new boo. Because I thought he was her husband. Clearly I thought wrong. Please understand that I love watching these people because of their fucqed up quirks. The shit they say and or do, you cannot make that shit up (Thank you Whoopi)

For example, Mama June said: "I haven't worn high heels since the forklift accident." Bwhahahahahahahahaha OMK Bwhahahahahahahaha! How does your mind not go ……….’say what’………….? Of course I am as curious as all hell about exactly what was the Forklift accident. Bwhahahahahahahaha. This is really funny shit.

Oh Oh, how is this. Sugar Bear said: Dancing is all about hand placement.” Bwhahahahahahahahaha. Oh Sweet baby Jesus that is funny. How can you not laugh at that?

"The soup has been cooking for awhile and smells like wet gym shorts."- Mama June, providing an enticing descriptive for her "cabbage soup," an unsuccessful attempt at "healthy" food.

Sugar Bear also said: "When June gets stressed, I let it roll off of me like oil off a duck."

I am on the fucqing floor laughing. Oil off a duck! Bwhahahahahahaha. The poor fucqing duck. Bwhahahahahahahahaha.

Of course I just could not stop laughing at their Family game. Let me explain how it went down.

In “Guess Whose Breath” one player must wear a blindfold while other people breathe upon that player's face. The blindfolded person must then guess who did the breathing, by the smell. According to Chubbs, she only brushes her teeth on "special occasions," so she should have been the easiest to identify. However, Chubbs actually won the game herself, by correctly guessing the breath of each family members. The game made Chickadee, the pregnant one, laugh so hard that she peed on the couch.

Mama June on the Wendy Williams Show

But an article about Mama June would not be complete without her famous Sketti Recipe. So here it is folks. Mama Junes FAMOUS Sketti Recipe! Eat your heart out Martha Stewart.

Ingredients

• 1 Pound spaghetti
• 3/4 Cup ketchup
• 3/4 Cup butter or margarine

Preparation

Step 1:

Boil spaghetti according to packaging directions, or about 20 mins. until it is soft.

Step 2:

Mix butter and ketchup in a bowl and microwave until mixture is melted together. Pour over pasta and serve hot.

Cooking tip:

To see if the "sketti" is done, do as Mama June does: Throw it up on the wall and see if it sticks.

Enjoy your Sketti Everyone

Mwah!

Homophobia V.S. Gay

Do you know what fascinates me? The mindset of the average homophobe. I am fascinated by them.

In my (admittedly short) gay lifespan, I have seen and heard things that one has to sit back and wonder about these ‘proud to be straight’ men. We all know them. We all have ‘friends’ like this. The guy who is always gay bashing and always trying to prove a point that he is completely anti gay. But lets for a moment take a look at this man and try to see who or what he is.

There is an Afrikaans teasing rhyme that homophobes use to make fun of gays. It goes as follows: “Holle teen die muur, Zeo is hier.” I am just using my name in this rhyme to demonstrate it to you (I am also, admittedly, used to this rhyme having my name in it). Translated it means something to the effect of “put your bums against the wall, Zeo is here”.  What this means is that this Homophobe is scared of something that he doesn’t even really understand. The educated will know that not all gay men are interested in fucqing you, some wants to be fucqed and some do both. Hence the terms, Top (fucqer), Bottom (fucqee) and Versatile (fuckeree, does both). So Homophobe, how will keeping your bum against a wall help you when faced with a Bottom? Yes, a gay that wants you shlong-a-long (thank you Ronel).

Also remember that these sexual roles is not determined by the character of the gay man. In our relationship, for example, I am definitely more feminine inclined than Paul, I even think like a woman. But sexually I am a Top. You will also find that in 80% of gay couples, where there is a big guy and a smaller guy, the big one (that you would think is the Top) is the Bottom. So again, how does this rhyme help you Homophobe?

My second issue with that is the fact that you automatically assume that we want to penetrate you. Is that not just a little too much of wishful thinking? Hmmmmmmmmm?

What I have also noticed through the years is that Homophobes tend to think that a gay man WILL want them. Just for because. No there are gay men that do go for straight men. Yes it is true. But this can be said about any sexual kink. Do you meet a blond woman and believe that she is the town bicycle that has slept with the entire Dallas? No you don’t, so why do you assume that any gay guy will want to have sex with you? Firstly I have seen some these homophobes that claim this and the fact that even a blind drunk woman with the knowledge of that this is her last day alive will sleep with them, boggles the mind. What makes you think a gay man will want anything to do with you. We have class, style, brains and a sense of hygiene. It’s not gonna go down so please stop assuming that you are Gods gift. Or is your assumption actually just wishful thinking? Hmmmmmmmm? Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much.

On the topic of comparing gay men to these brute homophobes………..This is almost too easy. Look at them, now back to us. Now look at them again, back to us.

Their shirts are never ironed. As a matter of fact their miss match outfit (and please I am not talking about the ones that has a wife to pick out or iron their clothes) looks like it has climbed out of the washing basket all on its own. Once you get used to the over powering smell of Brutt or Axe (even though a nice smelling man is very sexy, you can also stink of your spray) you will smell the Body Odour that casually mixes with the smell of their piss and cum stained clothing. Yes, of course it is ok for you to recycle your clothing. Especially when you picked up skank last night, at your local Smugglers pub, wearing that same outfit. Then of course the excellent verbal capability. “Wiff, dat, I are wearing a jean pant.” Do I need to even continue?

As a matter of fact the comparison itself can be a blog on its own, so lets not delve too deep into it. After all, I wouldn’t want to give you a complex.

Then of course there is that age old argument about you being a cooler man because you get to see the sexy chick naked………………I am that sexy chicks bff. And what that means is that I actually get to see her naked whenever we go shopping. Not that it does anything for me but I actually do get to see her naked. Not like you that only imagine it. I have even touched her breasts to help her look for lumps or to readjust the girls in the bra. And you know when you are feeling self conscious because you think we are laughing at you……..well we are.

And then of course finally, in 1996 a study was done to try and see what is up (pardon the pun) with Homophobes.

They investigated the role of homosexual arousal in exclusively heterosexual men who admitted negative affect toward homosexual individuals. Participants consisted of a group of homophobic men (n = 35) and a group of non-homophobic men (n = 29); they were assigned to groups on the basis of their scores on the Index of Homophobia (W. W. Hudson & W. A. Ricketts, 1980). The men were exposed to sexually explicit erotic stimuli consisting of heterosexual, male homosexual, and lesbian videotapes, and changes in penile circumference were monitored. They also completed an Aggression Questionnaire (A. H. Buss & M. Perry, 1992). Both groups exhibited increases in penile circumference to the heterosexual and female homosexual videos. Only the homophobic men showed an increase in penile erection to male homosexual stimuli. The groups did not differ in aggression. Homophobia is apparently associated with homosexual arousal that the homophobic individual is either unaware of or denies.

You see, as gays we have to constantly hear how we are the vermin of the Earth. But if human categories were to be labelled like that, I wonder………....

My mom used to say: “We often hate in other people, that which we hate most in ourselves.”

Mwah!

Klere Koop Saam Zeo

So kom die dag dan nou toe ook wat ek klere moet koop vir werk. Ja button up shirts en sulke meer corporate goetters. Kan jy dit glo. Vir die wat my nou nie ken nie, laat ek net verduidelik. Ek word omtrent nooit gesien in enige iets wat net vaag weg ‘n suite resemble nie.

Paul is mal oor daai look. Dis wat hy dra en dit werk rerig vir hom. Hy lyk baie sexy in sulk klere, maar vir my persoonlik is dit boring klere. Mense wat nie colours kan match nie en wat nie kunstig is nie, dra dit. Dis net my opienie en julle hoef nie saam te stem. Ook gaan ek jou nie haat oor jy daardie klere dra nie. Baie mense wat ek ken dra dit, en nou ek ook.

So besluit ons dan nou om Maandag aand wat verby is klere te gaan koop. Sommer daar in my Hemel, ja Canal Walk, waar my saligmaker my bank kaart is. Dan weer hy kan ook partykeer die duiwel van self wees. Maandag was so kombinasie van die twee. Alhoewel ek mal is oor shop is ek nie mal oor boring klere shop nie. Dus die verwarring met die bank kaart se naam. Plasticus Christos of Brokezebank. Maar in geval Plasticus Christos ‘n Judas op my trek en in Brokezebank in verander het ek ook my trusty TFG kaart by my.

So vaar ons winkel na winkel in op soek na 'n broekkie en hempie. Iets wat sal werk vir die corporate wêreld. Maar nou, ek is ‘n groot ou (Paul!....focus!). Ek is 1.8 meter lank en weeg amper 130kg (nie iets waar op ek trots is nie, maar ek se maar net.) Ek dra ‘n 36 denim. Vind jy nou op die Godin se groen aarde ‘n swart broek in 36 en dan wen jy sommer ook 'n vokken Toyota.

Hulle het teering rot size (dis nou n 28) en dan het hulle nice body (32) en dan Holy Fucqing Crap (dis nou n size 44).  44, weet jy hoe vokken groot is dit? EK het niks teen groot mense nie, glad nie. Het baie groot vriende, maar as jy ‘n broek so aankyk, dan kom jy agter hoe groot is 'n 44. En ek weet nie van ander mense nie, maar ek sien nie my vriende as groot nie. Hulle is amazing mense wat ek dag in en uit mee kan gesels. Maar terug na die storie.

Teering Rot

Daar sien ek toe iets wat my rerig amper in my broek laat stoelgang (Dankie Lynn-Miri). Daar is n broek in size 27. Ja in die groot mens afdeling van die mans klere. Ek kon my vokken oë nie glo nie. ‘n 27. Weet jy hoe uit geteer ‘n 27 is? Dis ‘n teering Sprinkaan (Dankie Denise), vok dis Angelina Jolie. As jy ‘n 27 is, eet net vokken iets asseblief, ‘n toebroodtjie, enige iets, maar vokken eet net.

Ek gaan nou vir n oomblik hier vulgar wees. Dit betekin ek gaan bar, ombeskof en onder die belt wees. ‘n 27. As ek mos dit in die hande moet kry, dan breek ek sy pelvis, rugraat en kakebeen.

Right, eventually toe besluit ek dat ek nooit ‘n broek gaan kry nie en dat ek nou maar net n hemp gaan soek.  Nou vir die van julle wat nou nog nooit (mense soos ek) regte werks hemde gekoop het nie, dis moer confusing. Daar is twee nommertjies op die hemp, net so onder die kraag. En nie een van hulle het enige iets te doen met s / m / l / xl nie. Nee dis nommers soos in wiskunde. Ja mens het nou deesdae n bliksemse graad nodig om ‘n hemp te kan koop. Ek weet nou nog watter nommer beteken wat nie.  Hoe de moer moet ek dit weet. Dis nie asof enige iemand dit verduidelik nie. Daar is nie instruksies nie en probeer jy ‘n winkel assistant kry in die land wat 1, sy werk geniet en 2, actually praat sodat dit nie klink asof hy besig is om in sy mond op te gooi nie.  Nou wat doen jy? Old school.

Paul meet die hemde se arms gate teen my rug en ons sien of dit gaan pas.

Ek haal so pers nommer van die rak af, mooi kleur. Dink dit lyk so bietjie groot en ek sien Paul lyk so effe benoud. So asof hy by homself dink “As daai hemp jou pas, dan sky ek jou vet gat”. Paul meet die hemp teen my en God se waarheid dit vou so om my lyfie. Ek het lanklaas so maer gevoel. Ek voel skoons of ek nou op ‘n ramp kan gaan stap.

Natuurlik dit het nie my Pitagoras hemp nommer probleem op gelos nie. So gaan ons maar van hemp na hemp en soek iets wat lyk of dit okay gaan wees. Ek dink natuurlik dit lyk soos ‘n een man tent, maar Paul probeer hard om my gerus te stel. Ek gaan daarna, na die pas kamer toe.

Hulle is besig om Edgars oor te doen en die pas kamers is nou klaar, Dit het so 70’s retro vibe. Dis nice. Heilige Gees maar dis groot. Hoeveel spasie het mens nou rerig nodig om n hemp en of broek aan te pas? Dis so groot soos my vokken badkamer. Die hele cast van BelAmi kan hulle volgende movie daar skiet. (kom ons kyk wie gaan daai reference kry).

Dis ek op die stadium, maar watch this space.

Ek het toe ook eventually 3 hemde gekry. Kannie glo hoe duur so 'n boring stuk lap is nie, maar ok. Ek moet dit mos nou he, so wat kan man maak. Gelukkig was die skoenne koop maklik gewees. As daar mos nou een iets is wat ek ken, dan is dit skoenne koop. Het ook my eerste rooi paar skoenne gekoop. Hoer rooi. Ek love dit! Stunning!

Wel die einde van die storie kom neer dat ek lyk nou nie meer soos iets wat deel is van ‘n proef, vir werk nie. Maar die trauma was amper net te veel vir my. Die punt is, julle vroue het dit soveel makliker as mans. Julle het ‘n verskeidenheid van dinge wat julle kan dra. Rok of Romp of Broek of Leggings en amper alles is aanvaarbaar vir werk. Volgende keer as jy wat vrou is kla oor klere koop, dink aan jou arme man wat dalk ‘n 36 broek dra. Want geen vokken winkel het daai size nie. Ek het eventually een gekry, maar ek gaan nie se waar nie. Dan verloor ek my enigste plek om ‘n broek te koop.So nice is ek nogal nie.

Lekker koop.

xxx

Wedding Planner

Three things, all of you know about me by now.

1 That I am a poof. That means I am gay

2 That I am a Pagan

3 That I recently (on the 13^th of July 2013) got married

So keeping that in mind I want to tell you a little about arranging our magickal day. The planning wasn’t at all as easy as what it might have seemed. This entry is not so much about our wedding as what it is about when it comes to planning a wedding in general. But especially planning a wedding while keeping point 1 and 2 in mind.

You might think that 1 and 2 is not needed to be kept in mind but let me just tell you. They are important.

Every step, everyone that you hire, every venue that you visit, everything will be impacted by these details. Our wedding (or Handfasting as it is called in Paganism) and reception was both held at the same venue.  A beautiful hall in Milnerton. The dance floor steps down from the rest of the hall in a kind of oval shape. The ceremony was held on the dance floor and after that the floor was cleared for the dancing. Beautiful drapes and fairy lights adorned the pillars. The ceremony was openly Pagan and a blind man could see the just about pornographic gay statue on the altar, oh not to mention the two Grooms.

I am telling you this all for a reason. You have to understand that the caterer, as well as the cash bar and the DJ had to set up before the time so that they do not interrupt the ceremony. The wedding started at 17:00. Guests started to arrive by 16:00 (some a little earlier even). The caterer, bar and DJ had to be set up by the time that the guests arrived. Thankfully this was all done successfully. The catering staff, bar staff and DJ was thus going to be there for the ceremony as well. Not to mention the photographer and video camera person.

Everyone we hired had to be aware of the fact that this was a gay Pagan wedding. Not because we are over the top screaming queens, but for practical reasons.  Now thankfully we had no issue at all with any of this but can you imagine your caterer shows up and the in mid ceremony realizes what is going on. Let’s say your caterer is a serious Bible basher. Can you imagine the scene that will be caused. I imagine it to be something like this.

Caterer: This is so beautiful. (just realize that the caterer is standing on side just observing and obviously talking while the Priestess is doing her thing to the lovely couple)

Priestess: We are here to join these to souls together.

Caterer: Sjoe the Bride looks butch,, lets not judge.

Priestess: We your friends and family are here to witness your vows.

Caterer: Weird that they both wearing the same suit kind of thing, let not judge

Priestess: John and David do you come here out……

Caterer: SODOM, GEMORA!!! (at this point she whips out a bible and screams)

Can you imagine the scene. You have to inform the people that you will be working with on your BIG day about what they should and can expect. You don’t want scene’s that could have been avoided. Rather struggle to find the correct bar, that will be sensitive to all of your needs, instead of having a freak out at your wedding. Can you imagine the Bartender is a homophobe and just refuses to serve the happy couple because he thinks that handing them a drink will make him catch the gay virus and turn him. Or worse, they pack up and leave because they are offended by your ways.

Again, thankfully none of that happened to us. We had the most amazing crew on the day that made everything perfect.

For us the BIG disaster happened two weeks before the wedding when someone broke into our home and stole our wedding rings (among other things). We re-ordered our rings, but they were not in time for the wedding. Yes we were crushed, devastated, broken, but it was important to remember that even though the rings were beautiful, they were but a small part of the day. We used other rings for the day and in the mean time our rings have arrived again. We exchanged rings in a Full Moon ritual on Monday night.

When the poop does strike the fan with regards to your wedding planning, just try to remember that freaking out won’t solve it. Planning the wedding (that is if you are not using  planner) is supposed to be fun and a time of bonding for you and your partner. Paul and I did everything together. All the choices were made by the both of us and everything to do with the wedding was because both of us wanted it to that way.

Okay I am going to admit that I did have professional help. About a year or two before we got married I bought a book on how to plan a gay wedding. I read this book cover to cover. A lot of the advise I didn’t use and some I did, but it helped us. Mel can vouch for me when I say the book is full of post-it’s, to remind me of things. The book is ‘A Very Pink Wedding’ by Nicola Hill

Paul jokes (sometimes I am not so sure if he is joking) and tells people that they should rather elope, as it is easier than planning a wedding. He asked me in the week if I would do it again if we had a choice. Naturally my response was “yes I would do it again” as stressing and time consuming as what it was, I would do it again. It was a wedding straight out of a Disney movie.

xxx

How Paul Fits In - Part 6

It is almost a year since I last wrote about how Paul and I got together.  Originally I didn’t want to continue with the story as I thought that the idea was only to write about how we got together. But even Disney makes movies to show you what happens to the happy couple once they end up being together. So here we go.

We left the story where on a very teary Sunday afternoon, Paul left to go back to his terrible job in Burgersfort. He worked for a woman that worked him to the bone and to this day I would still LOVE to meet her to give her a small piece if my mind.

--Driekie, don’t ever mess with a Scorpio’s lover, just some useless info. --

In Burgersfort he had to work out a 2 weeks notice, which I still thought was kak, but he being the sweet nice man that he is, still did it. The problem is that this turned into a month. A month……the longest fucqing month of my life. Of course after he worked out his month he went back to his Parents house in Bethal and there he was for about a two weeks to pack his stuff. In this time period I remember mailing his mother and referring to his parents as Mr and Mrs Joubert. Today his mother is my mommy as well and Mr. Joubert is the only real Dad I have ever had. I love them to bits. Back to the story though.

As you can imagine by this time I lost hope. In my fucqed up mind I thought he was only going to be gone for two weeks. I don’t know why I thought that, but that is what I thought. And every day longer than those initial two weeks that he worked in Burgersfort, started to maybe sound like him making excuses so that he doesn’t have to move down. When he eventually told me that he was at his parents house I told him that I wont bother him there, as it is important that he spends time with them, cuz Goddess alone knows when he will see them again. (Thankfully he didn’t have to wait too long as they came to visit. But that is still to come in the story) If he wanted to speak to me while in Bethal, he had to contact me.

I remember that he didn’t contact me nearly as much as what I wanted him too and this of course made me loose hope even more. I was convinced that he played me for a fool and that I wouldn’t see him again. I was hurt, but more than that I was angry with myself. I had become that thing that I warned people not to become when you Internet date. Whenever he phoned, my heart still leapt. It couldn’t do anything else as I was truly in love with this man. Yes that quickly. I was never a believer in love at first sight until Paul. So I was never rude to him over the phone, but skeptical.

Then one fateful day he phoned me to give me a date. A date that he will be at Cape Town International Airport. Now I will admit that I was in two minds at this point.

Firstly, I was over the moon and for all those that know me from then, you will remember that I started counting the days on Facebook as part of my status.

Secondly, I was worried. What if this was just a lie? I had been lied to many times in the past. What if this was just something to make me shut up.

Thirdly, I was fearful. What happens if this man moves down to Cape Town for me and we clash terribly?

All of this, and more, raced through my mind. Somehow I decided to stay positive. Which isn’t always easy for me, or rather wasn’t always easy for me. But with the help of my friend Skelly, it has become a breeze. So with a positive attitude I started changing the bedroom so that it not only incorporated my loves and interests, but also his. I remember buying this HUGE Japanese fan that formed part of our headboard. I went all out and wanted him to feel that it is also his room, not just mine.

Not too long after, I took a beautiful man from the Airport to our new place.

I just moved into a flat in Edgemead, our first home together. One we shared with another couple, but it didn’t matter as I had my man. I remember him sitting on the edge of the bed with his suitcase and I sat behind him, just holding him. I didn’t want to let go. I was so afraid that I would loose him for another 6 weeks, that I couldn’t let him go. I just held him. To this day I cannot be away from him for long. It drives me crazy to not be with him. I miss him so terribly. If I go to bed I have to touch him. Even if it is just my foot touching his foot, but if he is not sleeping next to me (like when I go to JHB or DBN) I struggle forever to fall asleep and I don’t have as a good nights sleep as what I have next to him. Being away from him makes me cry. Yes and that might sound pathetic and sissy-boy like. Frankly I don’t give a fucq what it sounds like.

I believe that this is all like that, due to that first night that we lived together where I could not stop holding him.

Pink Loerie

Paul and I decided to get away for a few days. We originally went to drop off Wedding invites but that didn’t quite pan out as we expected and on last minute we decided to still go. We took three friends and went to Hartenbos for the weekend. We like to take turns in taking friends there. So each person that means something to us gets to share the magick of Hartenbos with us.  Before we left I made it very clear that we have to leave Hartenbos early on Saturday morning to go to the Sedgefield Farmers Market and Knysna.

At the Market we had yummy breakfast, but me in my infinite wisdom didn’t take a single warm top with for the weekend and it was fucqing cold there at that time. So we walk around the market trying to find a top to buy. Of course I see many ones that I love but they are either too expensive or made to fit my one thigh. One size fits all, my gat. If you don’t mind looking like a Wallmart add, then yes sure, one size fits all. 

We walk past this one guy that is so loud that he has to be gay. Not that he was that loud, to be honest, but no straight guy is ever that loud. He looked at me and said “I like your broek” to which I smiled politely and said thank you. But I didn’t think anything of it. It is a nice broek! Paul made it. 

Eventually I get to a stall that has hippy like clothing that I like and there is a blue top that I like, wel mostly blue. The woman tells me: 

Photo was taken by Martyn Hill

“One size fits all”………..my gemoed sak in my skoene. 

I hear this voice, yes the same voice that liked my broek, saying that if it fits him then he gets it for free. I know I also said at the same time, something about me highly doubting that it will be one size fits all.

Of course the lovely lady who owns the stall tells me to try it on, yes hoping to make a sale. And it fits. She says that it looks good and I say it is only because I am wearing it. Next minute I hear Broeks (that’s just what I am gonna call him from now on, since I don’t know his name) saying I will have one, as he points to me. He then corrects himself and says: 

“I mean the jacket not him, …….but I will buy him too.”met so 'come to daddy smirk' op sy gesig.

I was shocked. One: he had his boyfriend with him (a very handsome Indian looking man), Two: my fiancé is standing right next to me and Three: someone actually hit on me. I think the last one shocked me the most. Here I am, Blond (since I cut off my beautiful long black hair), about 40kgs over weight (no longer fitting into my beautiful clothing), freezing my tits off, no makeup (not even eyeliner) and someone hits on me. I thought, My God what is this world coming to? But I was so shocked that all I could get out was: 

“I am extremely expensive.” I realize now, how this could have been seen as a rude remark but that is honestly not how I meant it.

Another Martyn Hill Photo

So we leave the beautiful town of Sedgefield, to go to the Beautiful town of Knysna. Only to discover that it is the Pink Loerie festival. Now I have never been to any form of gay event. Yes I went to Bronx and Clud 55 and even to the Gat Party, but never to like the Pride or something huge and expansive and parade’s and street parties.   

Oh I went to the Lady Gaga concert, which I suppose is as good as a gay pride parade. But in my young queer life, this was going to be my first parade. Anitici..............pation.

I must just tell you, for those that have never been to the Pink Loerie. This is not a small thing that a few moffies and dikes get together for. Nee meisie. The entire fucqing town gets involved. Its amazing to walk in a town so small and see all the pink and all the gay flags. Everyone, young and old gets into it. The solidarity was amazing. It was wow. 

We go do our shopping and a few hours later 5 very tired friends decides to just have a quick drink at a small restaurant in Knysna, before we go home. At this point not planning to stay for the parade. (Paul mentioning something about the traffic being a bitch if there is a parade)

Chaplin’s Bistro was our destination. I chose it because, to me, it was the best decorated one that I could see. They were kitted out for the Pink Loerie. So we went to go sit just to have a quick drink………………. Now anyone that knows me, should also know that when I am enjoying myself, it is never a quick drink ……………never……………..ever.

The owner of this lovely place came up to us and she told me how glamorous I looked. I was flattered and thankful. Every now and again she came to our table to chat. We (by we I mean I made Riaan do it for me) asked her for one of the chair decors as a souvenir and she happily agreed. The problem is that Riaan looked like a boring straight boy, as a matter of fact that is exactly what I called him. So the table décor became his scarf. What followed next was Paul wanting to put a fake pink rose in Kevin’s hair. But Kevin would only agree to it if we bought him a drink. You see we had to do this because in order for Getanya (Riaans girlfriend) to agree for me to go buy Riaan a toy tiara to put on, she said Kevin must put the flower in the his hair…………So I toddled across the square to the toy shop to get Riaan a tiara after ordering Kevin’s milkshake.

But alas, the toy shop had no Tiara’s. Which yes, I did kak them out for. I mean with all the Queers in town, how could they not have tiara’s. What the Fucq!! However, Zeo does not give up that easily. You all should know that by know right. So I bought him a purple tinsel wig instead. *evil laugh

What we all looked like at that point

Now you are all asking if he put it on………..come on, you should know me better than to ask that sort of question. Like he had a choice. I also bought Paul a flower necklace. So now all of us are pretty much looking like we could be in the spirit of things. Well all of us except for Riaan who looks like a really tired has been boring old porn queen drag act. But then something happened that changed Riaan’s fate. I ordered Bubbly for the table. Great for me, BAD for Riaan. Throughout all of this, Jenny (the wonderful owner of Chaplin’s) is just about kuiering with us. Pretty soon Riaan was topless and his scarf became a halter neck boob choop. My blue snood (type of scarf) came off and was magically transformed into a mini skirt for Riaan. I felt like the fairy godmother in Cinderella. I transformed a really tired has been boring old porn queen drag act into Mz. Pink Loerie. Well he wasn’t a boring straight boy anymore. Hehehehehe.

Mz. Pink Loerie and Jennie in orange

So at three we decide to go and join the crowd for the parade. Ons gaan nou parade kyk. And I have to tell you it was interesting. Some really hot boys some really old boys, some young some not so hot. Some bears and some twinks. Good Drag Queens and bad Drag Queens and lots of Drag Queens whom I would like to contact to teach them how to walk properly on heels, without letting the ankle shake that much. 

Who comes walking past us in the parade, handing out the Pink Tongue (This is a LGBT newspaper {to whom I will mail this blog}), Broeks!! I was nogal upset with him. Wants to buy me in Sedgefield, but doesn’t even offer me a spot in the parade. It is so over between us. Hehehehehehehehe ;) ag just kidding Broeks, I still luv you!

After Getanya got me a Pink Loerie T-Shirt (Please don’t ask) and Riaan got felt up by lots and lots of guys wanting his photo, yes I am being serious, we decided to go back to Hartenbos and enjoy a quiet night by the fire. 

Thank you to everyone that made my first (and hopefully not the last) Pink Loerie so memorable. Love you all

Mwah!

P.S. Yes I did buy the mostly blue top. I am wearing it in the photo!

Wedding Jitters

I have been extremely quiet lately. Wedding jitters…..I think. So I decided that I would tell you about my wedding jitters. Maybe it will somehow help me to cope with it all.

13 July 2013

Well firstly you have to understand that this is the second time I am doing this. My mother (Goddess rest her soul) was married 5 times. I am 30 and going on number two. So yes just a little freaked out about that. Paul’s parents are so wonderful together and they are first time wedders. ( I just made that phrase up. It means to still be married in your first and only marriage, that is happy.) Oh look at me rewriting the Dictionary.

How many people can say that they are still first time wedders? But taking it further, I am Paul’s first relationship. Not his first sex (skank has had a few shags before me and I constantly reminding him that any bitch before me was a mistake) but his first relationship……ever.  Now how many people do you know that is still first wedders with their first time partner….yea suddenly it seems all a bit unreal doesn’t it.

But like any little girl (who the fucq am I kidding), I have been planning my BIG day for a long time. You know all of that is actually a lie, but I have been imagining what it would be like to plan a wedding where I actually have a say in what is happening. Pretty unreal I know. And what is great is that Paul is letting me run with the ideas. Yes I run everything past him first and if doesn’t like it then we don’t do it. Even the designs on the invites. But I feel like I am planning the fairytale wedding and he is just cool with it, His same calm self. 

“When a prince meets another prince and they fall in love they have the ability to live happily ever after. First they gotta see who is the top and who is the bottom and if there is a versatile in one of them. It helps if they both have nice asses and crotches. Eye candy is always good. Of course there is also.....you know what let me just say that gay relationships are fucqing difficult.”

Side tracking way too much!Hmmmm nice crotch......

Most of the things are done. It is just all the small things now that we are trying to sort out and then putting all of those small things together to make our magickal day work. Oh and the be damned cash bar! I am at wits end between them and Govermunt. Jirre.

So far, everyone but Mirelle (and what does she know with her hillbilly pallet), loves the invites. We worked very hard on them and it seems that everyone liked them. Yes I know that it is not about the people and that it is only about Paul and myself coming together, but you don’t want anyone to look at the invites and be as judgemental as what I know I can be. “Oh my god, this looks cheap and home made. Could they not at least just have cut straight. This is tacky.”

Yes those are things that I would say. Yes I am judgemental and superficial and sometimes plastic. One of my gay friends told me that it is a fags prerogative to be like that. I have embraced it. The first rule of magick is “Know Thyself”  :)

I will admit and have to give it to him. Paul, as I have stated may times before, is King of Procrastination. No one can procrastinate like he can. Well apparently his dad can and that is where Paul gets it from, but that is gossip between me and my Bethal Mommy.

But while planning the Wedding he has been on the ball. He really has amazed me and shown me that he can do things quickly. Yes this might come to bite him in the ass later on, but we will deal with that later, when it happens, hehehehehehe.

Right now our main concern is getting someone to make the cake for us at a price that we can afford. Getting enough carpets and pillows and finalizing the Table Décor. Of course we still have to find the perfect ribbon to use to tie our hands with as well. It has to be perfect and not just any old piece of shit.  But that is pretty much all in my area of influence. Paul’s biggest task is to sort the bar people out and then we need to write the ritual and get a rehearsal in before the time as well. Did I mention we have two months and 10 days before the BIG DAY?!

Oh I almost forgot. So far we are getting married wearing only a jacket and shoes. The rest of our outfits also still has to be done. Is it any wonder as to why I am freaking out just a little bit here?

Again, I know that the day is not about everyone else. I know it is only about us and that we should enjoy this planning process. Yes even though I agree with all of that, I still want this day to be just about as close to perfect as what it can possibly be. It is going to be THE event of the year.

I am trying to think of my vows and what it is that I will say to Paul in ritual. I cannot think of one solid explanation that could ever encompass just how much, how deeply and how truly I love him. He is my entire world and without him I don’t want anything anymore. Nothing is worth it, if I cant share it with him…..Oooohhh that was good, let me remember that for when I do write my vows.

makes a mental note

Not that mental notes help, considering how mental I am. Yes by mental I do mean completely and utterly fucqed in the head. But I have to tell you that being psycho does have it’s advantages and can be a lot of fun.

Well I am gonna try to write more and not let the Wedding give me jitters anymore. Till we chat again.

Mwah!